


The Wolf and His Bard

by All_Might_Ships_EraserMic



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Cuddles, Fluff, Gay, LGBT, M/M, Sick Character, Sickfic, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/All_Might_Ships_EraserMic/pseuds/All_Might_Ships_EraserMic
Summary: Geralt gets sick, and Jaskier cuddles him.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 6
Kudos: 150





	The Wolf and His Bard

Geralt pulled himself out of the lake, ignoring Jaskier’s offer of assistance as murky water spewed from his nose and mouth. The soaked witcher did, however, accept a rag from his friend, using it to wipe an arguably clean swathe across his face and hands. 

“You need a bath.” Jaskier wrinkled his nose, repulsed by the boggy smell clinging to his friend’s clothes. It had been quite a disgusting lake, fouled by the monster’s presence.

“Hmm.” Jaskier accepted this noise as agreement, and cheerfully helped attach the severed head of the monster Geralt had been hunting to Roach’s saddle. 

The pair spent a night at the local inn before moving on to their next job, and at first Jaskier thought geralt was fine, as usual. Maybe he’d been a little more terse, a little less patient than usual, but that wasn’t too far out of the ordinary. 

But then Jaskier awoke one night to the sounds of Geralt heaving up his dinner. That was certainly out of the ordinary. 

“Geralt! Are you alright?” Jaskier rushed over, ignoring the witcher’s attempts to shoo him away. 

Geralt grunted, “Go back to bed,” and resumed vomiting. 

“No.” Jaskier folded his arms, trying his best to look stern.

“I’m fine.” Geralt spit and stood up, swaying slightly before finding his footing. 

Jaskier snorted at this ludicrous statement. “Yes, because you normally get sick all over the place. Tell me how long you’ve felt ill.”

“Not long.” Jaskier raised his eyebrows, and Geralt groaned. “Since the lake.”

Jaskier gasped. “Geralt! That was five days ago! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Witchers don’t get sick.”

Rolling his eyes, Jaskier led his friend back to his sleeping pallet. “Clearly.”

Suddenly, Jaskier came to a realization. “You haven’t been eating, have you?”

Geralt’s silence gave the answer, and Jaskier felt shame settle in his chest. How did he not notice? Geralt had been giving him extra food when they stopped to eat, always claiming that he’d eat later or had already eaten something, but now that he thought about it, Jaskier hadn’t seen him eat a single thing since they’d left town. Jaskier was shocked that he could love Geralt so much, yet miss his suffering so badly.

Placing a hand on Geralt’s forehead, Jaskier winced at the heat rolling off of his friend’s body. “You’ve got a fever. Please tell you that you’ve at least had some water recently?”

Geralt’s eyes were closed, and he waved a weak hand in the vague direction of his sick. “Tried.”

“Ah.” Jaskier chewed his lip nervously. He was a bard, not a healer! He’d never even really been around sick people, prefering to skip town when the plague rolled around. They were nowhere near the next town either, even if Jaskier could somehow get Geralt on his horse. 

“It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

Jaskier sighed dramatically. “Not an option, dearheart. 

The bard looked through Geralt’s saddlebags, grinning triumphantly when he found a clean rag. He was doubly lucky that they had camped near a river for cold water. A few minutes later, Jaskier had the dampened cloth draped over his friend’s forehead, and Geralt’s tense muscles appeared to relax from the slight relief it brought. 

As Geralt fell into a fitful sleep, Jaskier stoked the fire and puzzled over what to do. Pressing on wasn’t an option, and backtracking wasn’t either- Geralt would push himself if asked, but Jaskier would be stuck if his friend collapsed. 

So, sticking it out in the forest it would be. Geralt lay curled on his side, and Jaskier wiggled closer under their blanket until he was pressed against Geralt’s broad chest. Then the bard fell asleep, listening to the slow rhythm of his lover’s heartbeat.


End file.
